


i feel your fear, surrounded by your skin

by jinchav



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Background LGBTQ+ Characters, Butchered Characterisations, Cat/Human Hybrids, Child Death, Child Neglect, EXPLICIT TRANSPHOBIA, Emotional Manipulation, Found Family but not rly, Gen, HQCatboyvember, Hurt/Comfort, Japanese Honorifics, M/M, Mild Panic Attacks/Panic Inducing Scenes, Misgendering, Nature Metaphors and Imagery, Swearing, Transphobia, deadnaming, everyone is dead tired so they make stupid comments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinchav/pseuds/jinchav
Summary: As per cat/human hybrid physiology, tails grow depending on how many people love you. The average tail is 15 to 20 cm long, filled with the love from your family.Tendou Satori has the uncommon case of a tail that shortens day by day, caused by the lack of love from his family. As he gazes upon Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club, he wonders if they love him too.“Wakatoshi-kun, do you think I’m unloveable?”
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu & Tendou Satori, Implied Kawanishi Taichi/Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou, Implied Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi - Relationship, Tendou Satori & Shiratorizawa Academy Volleyball Club, Tendou Satori & Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 125
Collections: CATBOYVEMBER: THE RISE OF THE CATBOYS





	i feel your fear, surrounded by your skin

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS and stay safe
> 
> i'm not sure if i did catboyvember properly but this idea has been in my head for ages. catboy kind of surged it forward!
> 
> title is cold blooded by khalid. not a songfic, but that song really encapsulates the entirety of this fic!
> 
> just in case; there is heavy transphobia it's really detailed pls

“Setsu-nii,” Satori began meekly, fiddling with the pencil in his hand. “Why can’t I be like you?” 

He hears a soft exhale and the shifting of fabric, as the warmth of his older brother’s body leans into his. “What do you mean by that?” 

Satori’s fist clenches around the pencil. He scrunches his nose. “Your tail is long and fluffy. All the kids at school tease me because my tail is so short.” As if on cue, Satori’s tail curls into his lap, his shoulders tense and his ears flatten against his red hair.

He’d always envied his brother’s tail. Although his own was just as silky and shimmery as the rest of his family, a striking scarlet with a sheen filled with the love of his family, it never grew longer than ten centimetres. Setsurou’s was a lovely strawberry red, with an abundance of fur that showed how many people fancied him.

Satori jolts a little as a hand gently ruffles the top of his head. He peeks upward and sees a little smile on Setsurou’s face. “People will love you, Satori,” he says in a low voice, his eyes cast down to the ground. “If you’re truly yourself, people will love you lots.” 

Satori pouts and swishes his tail around. “I am myself, though!” His brother merely chuckles, but Satori doesn’t realise until later that it sounded hollow. 

* * *

Satori is eight when his eyes are wide with awe and his smile begins to hurt his cheeks, as he witnesses the tiny tail of his newborn sister slowly extend. His heart swells as he realises it’s familial love, his family’s collective love that allows baby Sumiko’s tail to grow. 

“A daughter,” his mother sobs freely, laughing wetly with her husband. “A beautiful daughter. We have a daughter!” 

“She’s a miracle,” his father agrees. “Our miracle girl.” 

Satori laughs cheerily with them, their laughter infectious, and turns to face Setsurou. 

He freezes, however, at the sheer sadness tainting his brother’s face. Although his lips are turned upward, his eyes are dull, his shoulders are hunched, and his ears are folded back. 

* * *

Satori has a dilemma. 

He loves Sumiko very much. She’s small, and cute, and her hair is a gorgeous rosy red. 

But she cries _every single night._

Satori’s eyes are glaring at the ceiling of his shared bedroom with Setsurou. His brother is awake too, with the glow of his phone illuminating his side of the room. 

Their parents say that babies crying at all hours is normal. Satori decided then and there; that he never wants to have a baby.

He tells Setsurou exactly that, and he receives a snort in response. 

“You know, Satori,” he murmurs, “you also cried this much when you were a baby.” 

“No way,” Satori retorts, twisting his body to lay facing Setsurou. “I was a nice, quiet, happy baby.” 

Setsurou laughs loudly before instantly covering his mouth with a hand. Satori follows suit, giggling under his blankets. 

For a few moments they halt their conversation, stifling their laughter. As the humour ebbs away, they stay silent with serene smiles on their faces, in the midst of Sumiko’s quietened wails. 

“I wouldn’t mind having a baby,” Setsurou blurts out. “Giving birth seems painful, though.” 

Satori hums in response. He doesn’t voice his confusion, and eventually drifts off to sleep. 

* * *

Sumiko is four (“Fo’ an’ a half!”) when their parents finally have enough money saved up to purchase a second-hand home nebuliser. Even though her room is across the hall, furthest from Satori’s, it’s still loud and his head rings constantly from the lack of sleep. 

He’s glad, however, that she’s finally able to sleep peacefully. Satori doesn’t even want to imagine what it’s like to close your tired eyes, hoping to sleep, when suddenly your throat clogs up and your lungs are begging for air. He doesn’t want to imagine how it feels, to gasp and croak every night, crying so hard that when Sumiko wakes in the morning, she can’t even speak without needing a sip of cool water.

As light creeps through the gaps of the curtains, Satori feels a weight on his torso. Fearing that he’d suddenly stopped breathing, like Sumiko, his eyes snap open and he lurches forward. 

A yelp and a giggle startles him, as the weight tumbles off to the side of his bed. He rubs his eyes and mumbles incoherently. 

“Sa-to-ri-nii! Sa-to-ri-nii!” Sumiko pronounces slowly, yet cheerily, as she jumps up and down on her knees. “Up, up! Let’s play!” 

“What?” Is the only thing Satori manages to do, before he’s tackled into his own bed. “Ow, Setsu-nii!” 

“Set-su-nii!” Sumiko squeals happily, before throwing herself onto the pile.

* * *

The swaying leaves of the tree cast dancing shadows above the three siblings, a pleasant protection from the afternoon sun. Birds chirp and chatter in the distance, a quiet harmony that sidles itself in the amiable silence between them. 

“Sumiko, like this,” Setsurou comments, holding his hands out closer to Sumiko. She watches with intense focus, her comically large ears upright and lips pursed in a little pout. Setsurou holds the stem of a single daisy in his hands, pinching a hole with his fingernail. “Follow what I do.” 

Sumiko nods fervently, taking a daisy in her hands, carefully piercing an imperfect slit through the stem. Satori jolts in surprise as Sumiko throws her head up quickly, awaiting Setsurou’s next step. 

He chuckles at her. He takes another daisy and threads it through the slit. He angles it towards Sumiko for a moment, before punching another hole through the second flower stem. 

“Oh!” Sumiko exclaims. “Okay!” Her tongue sticks out in concentration as she slots daisy after daisy with clumsy hands and a tail that sways back and forth. 

Satori shares a fond grin with his brother before resuming his own crown, humming an unfamiliar tune. 

“Sumiko, wait— stop,” Setsurou suddenly snorts, hovering his hand over hers. “That’s— that’s too many flowers! It’s going to be too big for your head.” 

Satori cackles along, adding, “It can be a flower necklace.” 

“Nii-chan,” Sumiko pouts in mock annoyance. “Silly. This crown’s for you!” 

Satori shuts his mouth in surprise, and Setsurou’s eyes are wide in confusion. “Huh?” He says dumbly. 

Sumiko huffs and locks the final daisy in place, standing up to place the crown onto Setsurou’s head. “There!” She smiles triumphantly. “Now you’re a pretty lady!” She giggles before grabbing Satori’s unfinished crown. “I’ll make you pretty too, Satori-nii!” 

He quirked an eyebrow and ruffled her head. “Thanks, I was getting lazy anyway.” He pokes her cheek when she sticks her tongue out at him childishly. 

Satori stretches his arms, then manoeuvres to rest his head on Setsurou’s lap. He sighs contentedly, “Ah, this is the life of luxury.”

At the lack of response, he tilts his head back inquisitively. A faraway look lingers in Setsurou’s eyes, eyebrows raised high and lips parted, astonishment lacing his features. His hand lingers over his flower crown, the tips of his fingers suspended in the air, just barely skimming against the dainty white petals. 

In a hushed tone, Satori inquires, “Setsu-nii?”

He blinks rapidly, pulling himself out of his daze. “Oh, are you getting tired?” 

“No, but you—” 

Sumiko sneezes three times in succession, accidentally crushing the flowers in her chubby hands. “Aww,” she pouts, sniffling.

“Oh shit,” Setsurou shifts onto his knees abruptly. Satori rolls off his lap with a grunt. “It’s been over an hour! We gotta get you inside.” 

Sumiko giggles and coughs, struggling with her words, “You said a bad word, nee-chan.” 

He freezes in his motions, a troubled expression on his face. “What?” 

“Nee-chan! Cause you’re pretty! And mum says pretty is for girls!” 

“Sumiko, boys can be pretty too,” Satori lays on his stomach, resting his chin on his palms. “I mean, look at me! I’m pretty!” He waggles his eyebrows and flicks his ears back and forth, causing Sumiko to laugh and coo. She reaches out to paw at his ears. 

“Alright,” Setsurou says hoarsely, standing up to brush off dirt. “Let’s go inside.” 

* * *

“Sumiko, what are you doing!” Setsurou chides quietly through clenched teeth, eyes darting around anxiously. 

Unaffected, the toddler shoves her outstretched hands into her brother’s face. “Look!” She chirps. 

Setsurou glances at her messily painted nails, blotchy at the cuticles and unfilled in a few areas. He surveys the damage across the bedroom floor, various bottles of polish uncapped. His anxiety spikes as his sister vibrates excitedly in one place, afraid that a misstep would knock them all over. 

“Geez, it looks like you dipped your hands into a big bowl of mud, Sumiko,” Satori leans against the doorframe, arms folded and a teasing arch of his eyebrow. She sticks her tongue out at him. 

“Argh, seriously,” Setsurou grumbles in frustration. He kneels and begins to close each individual bottle. “Okay, Satori, mum’s polish remover should be in the second bottom drawer right next to you. Uh, yeah that one. Can you wipe Sumiko’s nails with that and a tissue?” 

“Nooo!” Sumiko pouts, closing her fists and holding them close to her chest. A strangled noise emits from the back of Setsurou’s throat as he grimaces at the nail polish that leaks onto her skin. 

“C’mon, sis,” Satori holds his hands out, waiting patiently for her to offer hers. Eventually she does.

“Fine. Only cause it’s stinky,” she keeps her frown for the next few minutes. 

“Okay, all done. Let’s go wash your hands,” Satori says, a little amused at Sumiko’s dejected look. “Setsu-nii, you— uh, you alright there?” 

Setsurou’s shoulders are slumped as he holds one bottle of polish in his hand. Satori squints, and sees that the colour is a sparkly wine red. Setsurou’s fingers trail along the bottle, a conflicted frown on his face.

Satori hums contemplatively. 

He ushers Sumiko out of the room, then tentatively approaches his brother. “Setsu-nii,” he tries again. “Do you… want your nails painted?” 

Setsurou flinches and his ears shrink a little. He nervously starts laughing. “N-no, of course not! Why, uh, why would you think that? Haha, nope!” 

Satori hums again. “Nii-san,” he gently takes the bottle. “Just give me your hand.”

Setsurou stutters out an ‘okay’, shrinking into himself more. Shaking slightly, he slots his hand into Satori’s, his other hand tense in his lap. Satori begins to unscrew the cap with one hand.

“Ah wait, you need to shake the bottle first,” Setsurou instructs timidly. Satori quirks an eyebrow, but does so without comment. “A-And, um, swipe the brush against the rim first so you don’t have too much polish…” He mumbles, eyes averted to the ground self-consciously. 

With unpracticed hands, Satori smushes the small brush onto one nail, its bristles splaying about. “Oops,” he huffs out a laugh, before reattempting gentler strokes. 

Setsurou jolts as he hears Sumiko run past their parent’s room, flinches as he hears movement and clanging from the kitchen, and his ears move about restlessly at the sound of footsteps. 

“Hmm, hm,” Satori begins to hum a tune softly. He feels a little twitch of the hand in his that eventually relaxes, feels the pulse gradually beat into a gentler pace, and he hears Setsurou’s breathing evening out. 

As Satori finishes off the second to last fingernail, he catches a glimpse of the tranquil smile across him. The nails are badly painted yet Setsurou is oscillating his free hand, gazing happily at the smears of red.

A shocked gasp comes from the doorway, and Setsurou pulls his hand out of Satori’s as if he were burned. Trembling slightly, they turn to see the disappointment on their parents’ faces.

“It-It’s not what it looks like—” 

“Satori.” their mother bites out coldly, making the two of them wince. “Go to your room.” 

Staying put, he looks back at Setsurou in worry. 

_“Now!”_ shouts their father. Satori scrambles to his feet and rushes out of the room, hearing a loud slam and indistinct voices shouting.

* * *

In the evening as their mother silently chops vegetables and the static from the television entrances their father, Satori and Sumiko peek into the darkness of Setsurou’s room. 

A tall lump covered in a sheet sits at the edge of the bed. In his limp hands are the remains of a wilted flower crown. 

“Setsu-nii?” Satori tip toes into the room, his younger sister following suit. “Should I not have painted…” 

A hand shoots to Setsurou’s mouth, muffled sobs leaking through the gaps of his fingers. “What is wrong with me?” He weeps. “Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be _normal_?” 

Satori cringes, the words all too familiar to him. Sumiko’s eyes water, affected by her older brother’s emotions, as she wails his name and latches on to his leg. 

“Satori, please don’t hate me,” like a whip, the rushed words crack at him so strongly that he flinches. 

“I don’t hate you, nii-san. Why would you think so?” He asks slowly.

“I wish, I wish I was—” Setsurou whimpers, crushing the crown in his hands. Satori’s eyes are drawn suddenly to the blank nails, red only staining the edges. His fingers are raw and dry. “I wish I could—!” 

He gasps and exhales shakily as words fail him, now outright sobbing into his (her?) hands. Satori sits beside his sibling, draping a long arm around (her?) shoulder. 

“Shh, nee-san,” he soothes. “It’s okay, I love you.” 

The change in honourifics was a gamble he’s willing to take. However it was worth it, as Setsu bawls into his shoulder, holding him tight, muttering ‘thank you’s in the midst of her tears.

* * *

Months pass by into winter, the chilly winds sweeping through their house and taking most of Sumiko’s pain-free breathing away, forcing her to stay with her nebuliser for longer than usual. 

The evening is solemn yet filled with chatter to ease the worry over the health of the youngest Tendou. 

“Setsurou, your mother tells me you’re almost top of your class,” his father says as he reaches into the middle of the table to grab fermented vegetables with his chopsticks. “I’m proud. But you can do better, son.” 

Satori side-eyes Setsu, watching as her grip on her utensils hardens. 

“I know.” She replies curtly.

“Hey, don’t get mad. Maybe if you spent your time studying instead of playing that guitar of yours, I wouldn’t have to remind you that there are others more successful than you.”

Setsu purses her lips and chews her food deliberately slowly. 

“Setsurou, you’re old enough to get a job, aren’t you?” their mother chimes in. “Since you like playing so much, you could be one of those people who perform on the streets for money.” She laughs sardonically and their father guffaws in response. 

“Ah, good one!” 

“I mean, it isn’t the best job, like… being a doctor. But as the eldest child in this family, it would be nice of you to help us financially. Even if it’s just scraps!” their mother’s smile is sickly sweet. “We’ll support you in whatever you choose.” 

“Dear,” their father chuckles. “Remember what Setsurou told us last week? He wants to take his time—“ 

“Setsu _na_ ,” a firm voice cuts in. Setsu’s fists are clenched so firm on the tabletop that the insides have turned white with pressure. “It’s Setsuna. I’m a girl.” 

The silence that permeates the dining area is stifling. Sumiko’s throat makes a strange noise, as if the tension was so thick, it affected even her breathing. 

“What?” their father’s tone is harsh. “What did you just say?” 

Setsuna flinches. “I—I’m… I’m a girl. I use she and her, not h-he or him.” She swallows thickly. “Also, um, being a musician does take time, but—” 

“What the hell is a Setsuna?” their father snarls, face twisted in disgust. 

“It—that’s my _name_ ,” she crumples into herself. “Setsuna is my name, because I’m a girl.”   
  
“No. You aren’t a woman, you’re a man,” their mother counters calmly. 

“Yes, I _am_ a w-woman,” Setsuna bites out.

“No, sweetheart,” their mother huffs gently, a condescending look in her eyes. “You’ve always been jealous of Sumiko-chan, since the moment she was born.” 

Setsuna’s jaw hangs open in shock. “I—I’m sorry, what?” 

“I know. I saw you every time I held Sumiko-chan. I notice you, Setsurou. It’s okay, I love you too.” 

“No, no, what?” Setsuna drops her chopsticks, placing her hands flat on the table. “That’s not—?” 

“Enough with these jokes,” their father interrupts sternly, rubbing a hand over his face. “We’ve been over this. You are _not_ a girl.”

“This isn’t a joke, this is who I am!” Setsuna snaps, shoving herself away from the table. She exclaims in frustration. “Ugh! I knew I shouldn’t have said anything! I’m so _stupid_ , bringing this up again—” 

“So you were never going to tell us?” their father cuts in mockingly. “You were going to keep _lying_ to us?” 

“No! But the way you’re reacting to me—“ 

“Well, how about how we feel? You’re our son, and suddenly you want to be— you want to be a _freak_?” their mother spits out, folding her arms, a haughty upturn of her nose. 

“How… what? I don’t understand what’s happening right now,” Setsuna’s voice trembles. 

“What’s _going_ to happen,” their father continues. “is that we’re all going to forget this conversation ever happened.” 

Setsuna slumps into her seat, eyes creased in pain. Suddenly she yelps and stands up, twisting her torso and flicking her tail into view. 

Satori’s eyes widen. 

Her tail… was receding in length. 

Setsuna locks eyes with Satori, her fear forcing tears to fall. She quickly looks to her parents, who were silent, but were eating as if nothing was happening. As if they weren’t aware that their love for their child was fading, right in front of them. 

Setsuna whimpers, her ears flat against the back of her head, and her tail curled in to hide how much of it was now nonexistent. 

A high-pitched hiccup catches everyone’s attention. Sumiko, silent during the scene, was suddenly breathing harshly, rapid and short. Her cheeks were drowning and her mouth was gasping for air. 

“S-Sumiko!” Setsuna cries out, rushing over to scoop up her younger sister, when a rigid arm stops her in her tracks. 

“Don’t you dare!” her mother yells coldly. “It’s all your fault, Setsurou!” 

Setsuna, in all her confusion, sputters incoherent noises. “What are you talking about?” 

“All your crying, you wanting so desperately to be a girl, you _cursed_ Sumiko!” her mother points a stiff finger at the hyperventilating child. “ _You_ did this to her! Look at her! She can’t breathe! All because you took that away from her!” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Setsuna shouts back. “Sumiko can’t _breathe_ —!” 

“Get out of my house!” her mother screams. “You did this! It’s all your fault!” 

A loud gurgle followed by abrupt silence snaps them back to Sumiko. Her body was slumped back against her chair, her head lolled to the side. Her face was red, almost purple, her eyes were rolled to the back of her head. Drool trickled from the corner of her lips. 

Satori gasps in horror and he hears somebody screaming. His vision becomes blurry and his head is throbbing. His lower back stings unpleasantly, and in the corner of his eyes he sees strands of red falling.

Fearfully he averts his gaze to the floor, fur gathering at his feet. Puzzled, he twists to look at his tail and—

“Oh god,” he whimpers. His tail, half of it, it’s— “It’s _gone_!” 

“ _Sumiko_ , no—!” Is the shrill cry that rings in Satori’s head as the sight of his baby sister limp in her chair blurs and fades to black. 

* * *

“Damn it, Tendou!” a fellow third year fumes, a hand rifling through his brown locks in frustration. “Damn you and your guess blocking!” 

“Hehe,” Satori titters, nonchalantly placing both hands behind his head. “Maybe you should get better at spiking.” 

“Stop provoking him, Tendou,” Semi rolls his eyes, wiping sweat from his forehead. 

“Aw, Semisemi, you’re no fun.” 

“And stop with that nickname, it’s embarrassing!” 

The whistle blows and Semi purses his lips at Satori in mock annoyance before resuming his position. 

He hears the tell-tale thump of a hand slapping against the volleyball, and sees it flying overhead into the other court. Yamagata calls for it, barely shifting his feet as his arms extend to receive the easy serve.

Satori smirks at the third year across the net, relishing at how he hesitates in his steps for his run-up. His jump ends up being askew. 

“What kind of jump is that?!” Comes the screech of Washijo, whose fists are pumping the air in frustration.

Sweat drips from the spiker’s hairline. His arm falters at being yelled at, however as the ball is set his way, he swings with all his might into the empty space beside Satori. 

_Nope_ , Satori thinks smugly to himself, _that was on purpose._

His frigid arms rapidly veers over, effectively shutting the ball out. With a resounding thud, the ball dribbles into the opponents’ side of the court. 

“Goddammit!” groans the third year. He drops to his knees dramatically as the whistle blows twice in succession, signalling the end of the match. 

“Ah,” Satori stretches his arms out. 

“No, Tendou, don’t do it!” Semi points a finger at him. “Stop it, stop it right now.” 

“Hoe don’t do it,” Kawanishi remarks quietly to Shirabu, who stifles a snigger. 

“Miracle boy!” Satori reaches to the ceiling, his grin never fading. 

“Oh my god.” Yamagata adds on as he wipes sweat beside Kawanishi. 

“Sa! To! Ri!” He poses to each syllable with giddiness springing about in his chest. 

Exasperated groans and fond sighs engulf Satori, fuelling his triumph.

* * *

Satori successfully blocks several more spikes before Coach tells them to clear the gym and wash up. It’s only the second night of the annual, three-days-two-nights training camp solely for Shiratorizawa Boys’ Volleyball Club, but Satori is already so exhausted.

Since it’s also the sixth anniversary of Sumiko’s death. 

Satori drags lazy fingers through his hair, the water burning and reddening his skin. His ears twitch every now and then, flicking away stray droplets of water. 

He’s glad the showers in the Academy have cubicles. Satori doesn’t normally care for public opinion, but he’s terrified of seeing his own tail, a very short 8.4 cm. 

_Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look,_ he chants in his head. Yet his eyes darted over to check. Is it shorter than it was yesterday? 

Ever since Sumiko passed, and Setsuna was kicked out, Satori’s relationship with his parents was strained. The house had become eerily quiet and freezing cold, like he was a lone candle light, and his sisters were the suns that lost their flames. 

_“Satori, don’t you dare be like your brother,”_ the warning from all those years ago echoes in his mind. _“If you don’t want us to die, be better.”_

Yet as Satori picked up volleyball a year after the incident, their gaze lingers on his sports equipment, filled with disgust and disappointment.

Every day that passed, Satori would watch helplessly as his tail shortens bit by bit. He feels it contract into itself, with a telltale tingle below the small of his back. He knows this, as it happens each day he comes home late from volleyball practice, and each instance he asks them to watch his games.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that his tail shortened from the gradual loss of his parents’ love. Not until Ushijima inquired about it during their first day of high school. 

“Tendou,” a deep voice reverberated through the thin walls of Satori’s cubicle. Ah, speak of the devil. “You’ve been in there for a while, are you—?” 

A shrill screech interrupts Ushijima. Puzzled, Satori turns off the water and peeks over the door. 

Goshiki is recoiled behind a towel, not naked yet his leg is up and his upper body is twisted to hide his chest. His velvety black cat appendages are comically stiff and spiked up, as though they had been shrieking along with him.

“Don’t look!” Goshiki hisses, gripping his towel tighter.

Only a few Shiratori members remain in the showers, yet they’re all staring at Shirabu whose arm is frozen in the air, stretched toward Goshiki. 

“Ah, quite the pervert aren’t you, Kenjirou?” Satori teases, flinging his elbows over the cubicle door.

“What?!” Appalled, Shirabu jolts away from Goshiki with a heavy flush. “I wasn’t trying to—!” 

“Pfft!” Semi covers his mouth, failing to stifle his sniggers. Shirabu glances at him incredulously, and Semi has to turn away, holding his shaking body on Kawanishi’s shoulder. 

“Shirabu, leave Goshiki alone.” Ushijima says expressionlessly, causing Semi to burst out with his cackling. Even Kawanishi is chuckling freely. “Why is everyone laughing?” 

“Ahaha! Oh man, Ushijima, never change.” Yamagata pats the Shiratori captain on his back before leaving. 

“What?” 

“Don’t mind,” Reon walks by with his towel slung over his shoulder, unabashedly exiting the showers fully nude. 

Ushijima simply blinks in confusion, turning to Satori in silent query. He shrugs in response with an impish grin. 

* * *

“Oh my god senpai you’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

“Tendou, no!” 

“Tendou, yes!” Satori whoops before starfish jumping. “Incoming— ouch!” 

“That’s a damn school-issued thin ass futon, Tendou, of course you’re going to slam yourself into the freaking floor.” Semi scolds, tapping away on his phone. 

“Ugh,” Satori groans, lifting his face to the side. “Worth it.” He mutters, gazing at the boy sitting beside him, whose tired eyes are raking over the novel he cradles in his hands. The dim glow of the single ceiling light creates a gentle shine upon Ushijima’s hair, like a lush forest in the dusk. 

“Be careful, Tendou.” Ushijima comments quietly, his eyes darting over to him. Satori smiles back, burrowing his cheek into the pillow. 

“Mm. Thank you, Wakatoshi-kun.” 

“Ew. This is why we sleep in separate dorms. No mushy fuckery before bed.” Shirabu remarks, laying on his side with a hand propping up his head. 

“Hmm,” Kawanishi hums, a thin finger hovering behind one of Shirabu’s relaxed ears. “You kiss Semi-san with that mouth, Kenji?” He flicks the unsuspecting ear. 

Shirabu flinches and swivels his body, his teeth bared and cheeks cherry red. “Shut the fuck your face hole Taichi I swear to fucking—“ 

Yamagata coughs and doubles over in laughter, throwing a pillow in Semi’s general direction. In the background, Soekawa chastises Shirabu for swearing, and in the corner of Satori’s eyes he sees Goshiki pull his blanket over his head. 

Satori hears a short snort and glances at Ushijima, whose eyes are trained on his book, yet his lips are curled up and his eyes are warm. His heart clenches at the sight.

* * *

Night descends as the soft cacophony of snores ascends. 

Loud breathing mixes with deep rumbles, the vibrations disrupting Satori’s sleep. It was all too similar to the low hum of the old nebuliser for Sumiko, the hiss of the spray that aided her breathing. 

Sighing, Satori slowly pushes himself up and slips outside. 

He leans on the railings, a cool breeze whistling through his scarlet locks. His narrow tail sways from side to side, feather light from the absence of length.

Idly, Satori wonders how heavy his tail would be, if he ever had people who truly loved him. Would his tail be constantly tucked in between his legs like Setsuna, to avoid tripping others around him? How often would he need to groom his tail, if it were fluffy, if there were any people who liked him romantically? 

Satori surveys the twinkle of the stars that dance along the deep navy night sky. Far from the clusters of lights, there is a lone star, quite large and vivid, glittering so prettily. 

His heart pangs. 

Did he really shine so bright, like the solitary star, that those around him shied away from the vibrancy exudes? 

“Satori, why aren’t you asleep?” 

If he squints, Satori can see, as the shimmer of the lone star flickers about, there is another, right by its side. Just as brilliant, but dim, and muted. 

Perhaps it’s the exhaustion that finally catches up to him, but the question tumbles out of his mouth before he even registers it.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” a forlorn smile paints Satori’s features. “Do you think I’m unloveable?” 

A sharp intake of breath comes from his right. Satori tilts his head just so, his hair spilling onto his shoulders, and his ears drooping down. 

“No,” Ushijima answers firmly. “You aren’t. I love you. Therefore, you aren’t unloveable.” 

“Wh—“ Satori’s grip on the railing falters a little. “What? You… what?” He splutters, cheeks reddening. 

“A strong feeling of affection and fondness,” Ushijima elaborates. “That’s the definition of love. I care for you deeply, Satori, so I love you.” 

“O-Oh,” Satori rubs the back of his head in embarrassment. “Thanks?” 

“Is this about your tail?” Ushijima’s question is so sudden and blunt, Satori chokes on his own spit. He lets go of the railing, facing Ushijima properly as a means to tuck his tail away. 

A large, calloused hand cups Satori’s cheek. He jolts at the unexpected contact, accidentally locking eyes with Ushijima. Satori observes the gentle green orbs, taking in the warm sheen filled with emotion. 

“Satori,” his voice rumbles lowly, making him shiver. “I apologise if I’m being too blunt right now. I don’t know what happened that hindered the growth of your tail. However hurt you are, Satori, I hope you realise soon how much I— how much we care for you.” Ushijima’s thumb gently caresses his cheek. 

Involuntarily, Satori closes his eyes and purrs into his hand. He feels heat sweep across his face. Perplexed, he flutters his eyes open. His breath hitches when he sees how close Ushijima suddenly is. His lips are slightly apart, glistening in the moonlight. Satori notices Ushijima inching closer, ever so slowly. 

“Wakatoshi-kun,” he whispers breathlessly, taking a step closer to the taller boy. 

His lips begin to tingle, twitching with the need to be eased with the gentle pressure of Ushijima’s. Chills scour across his skin, a prickling sensation pooling at his tailbone. 

_“Oh shit!”_ comes a squawk from inside, stopping them in their tracks. 

* * *

Satori and Ushijima rush into the room, instantly taking in the scene before them. 

In the far corner of the room is Goshiki, planted against the wall with a continuous stream of tears pouring down his blotchy cheeks.

“G-Goshiki, come on, breathe!” Soekawa stammers, crouching in the corner in front of the quivering first year. 

“What happened?” Ushijima inquires, a crease in his brows. 

“I think he had a nightmare?” Semi replies, rubbing his tired eye. “We woke up to someone screaming.” 

“Holy fuck I’m so tired,” Shirabu mumbles. “Why is he crying.” 

“Don’t you have any sympathy?” Someone rasps lowly at the setter, who responds with an apathetic shrug.

“Jin, I got this,” Satori places his hand on the vice captain’s shoulder. He nods warily, backing off quickly. Satori crouches in his place, a little bit further away. “Hey, Tsutomu,” he says softly. “Can you hear me? Follow my breathing, okay? In and out.” 

Although shaky, Goshiki’s breathing eventually evens out as he inhales and exhales in sync with Satori. 

“Good, good. All better, Tsutomu?” Satori receives a shaky nod. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Goshiki whines faintly, his ears folding back. “Please, don’t hate me.” 

Satori’s breath hitches. Memories flash by quickly, of flower crowns and nail polish, of a crying silhouette begging for validation. 

“Why— why would we hate you?” Yamagata asks in a hushed tone, careful not to set him off again. Goshiki curls into himself more. 

“Shiratorizawa is my family, please, _please_ , don’t hate me!” 

“Hey,” Reon appears by Satori’s side suddenly. He exhales loudly as he sits next to Goshiki. A reassuring smile gazes upon his kohai. “You can tell us. What’s going on?”

“I—I—I… I can’t say it…” 

“Is it the same reason you were upset in the bathroom?” Shirabu asks with a conflicted look. “Did I, uh, did I hurt you…?” 

“Is the world ending? Shirabu is actually giving a shit,” Kawanishi places his hands on his head. With a blank tone he continues, “Fuck, bro, we gotta run.” 

“Shut up!” 

Using the advantage of the bickering second years, Satori wagers a guess about Goshiki. In a lowered voice he asks, “What made you upset in the showers?” 

Ears folded back, Goshiki whispers back, “My towel. Shirabu bumped into me and it… I almost dropped my towel.” 

“Your towel,” Satori repeats, tilting his head. “Is your towel important to you?” 

“...No,” his murmur is so quiet, Satori is straining to catch Goshiki’s words. “I was. I was hiding.” 

“Ohhh,” Shirabu draws out in realisation. Goshiki flinches as he realises the room had been quiet for a while. “Oh, I’m stupid. You’re trans, right? You were hiding your chest.” 

“What?” 

“Literally how did you guess that?” Semi quirks an eyebrow and places hands on his hips.

“You see, they call me Shirabu the Guess Setter—“ 

“Shut up, what the hell, who possessed you?!” 

“Wait, I’m sorry, Shirabu can make a joke?” 

“Don’t get used to it, I’m so tired right now, my clown genes are off the charts.” 

“Shirabu, holy crap,” Yamagata wheezes. “I can’t breathe—!” 

Goshiki muffles his giggles into his arms, but it still catches everyone’s attention. He grows silent, propping his chin on his forearms, however averts his gaze. “So, you’re all… really okay with that?” 

“Well, yeah. I’m also trans,” Shirabu shrugs nonchalantly. Semi gawks at him. 

“What? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Kawanishi snorts. “You two aren’t at that stage yet, huh. Oh shit,” he sniggers, dodging as the two setters lunge at him in a fit of rage. 

“Goshiki,” Reon calls for his attention gently. “Thank you for telling us. I know it must have been hard. I’m sorry you didn’t get to come out on your own terms.” He pats the first years’ shoulder as he stands up. “Augh, my back hurts. Even without my breasts, I still have back pains.” 

In a lackadaisical manner, Reon walks away and knocks himself out on his futon. Satori snorts. 

“Wouldn’t have _guessed_ that one,” he jokes, receiving a nervous laugh from Goshiki. “My sister is trans too. I can give you her number, if you needed to talk to someone other than us?” 

“That, ah,” Goshiki sniffles, pink on his cheeks. “I’d appreciate that.” 

Satori smiles. He sees a glossy black tail unfurling, its tip pointy and ungroomed. He blinks in surprise. Goshiki’s tail just… grew? 

A few other first year benchwarmers pop by. Some wrap their arms around Goshiki, mumbling about acceptance before sluggishly going back to sleep. One remained with eyes that struggled to stay open. “Goshiki my man, I’m gay and I’m tired. This is a bad idea but I’m gonna tell the team tomorrow. Not Coach though, fuck that. Night.” 

Satori snorts in amusement and Goshiki seems to have whiplash. 

A huge shadow looms over the two. Goshiki tenses a little before he cranes his head up to look at Ushijima. 

“I don’t know what ‘trans’ means.” 

Yamagata cackles unflatteringly and someone throws a pillow at him. 

“It’s short for ‘transgender’, Wakatoshi-kun. Tsutomu here was born in the wrong body,” Satori responds, glancing at Goshiki, in case he hadn’t explained properly. The first year just nods at him. “Tsutomu is a handsome lil’ boy, which is all you should know for now.” 

“Okay.”

“H-handsome… lil’ boy…” Goshiki sputters. 

“Why is everyone so weird when we’re dead tired?” Yamagata says between bursts of laughter.

“Look, Goshiki,” Shirabu yawns. “You’re not alone, or whatever. I’m pretty sure half the team is either gay or—” 

“European?” Kawanishi ducks, barely escaping a fist thrown his way. 

“We’re Japanese,” Ushijima interjects factually. 

“I’m gay _and_ Japanese,” Semi stands proudly before doubling over in pain as Shirabu jabs his sides. “Fuck!” 

“You’re all so annoying!” Shirabu growls. He turns away and crawls into his futon. “Bye.” 

Satori watches as other members reassure Goshiki, some also weren’t fully informed of what transgender was, but were willing to learn, before they all drifted back to sleep.

He feels a tug on his sleeve, and looks down at a meek Goshiki. “Um, thank you, Satori— I mean, Tendou-senpai!” Goshiki attempts a bow with just his head before rushing off to cocoon himself into his blankets. 

Blinking in surprise, Satori stays still in the corner he’d been left alone in. 

Surveying his sleeping teammates, he feels warmth bloom in his chest. For initially there was a seed of fear settled deep in the pits of his stomach, afraid that the team would react in a similar fashion to his parents. Bearing witness to the spiteful Shirabu comforting Goshiki in his own way, sprouted the seed into a bud, baby green and unsullied.

Although odd and unconventional, the combined warmth of the team shone upon Goshiki, allowing him to flourish and blossom in a shrubbery of love.

Satori huffs fondly, resting his head against the wall. His serene smile falters a little, as he replays the image of Goshiki’s tail growing right before his eyes. Although scruffy and untidy, the extension was proof that Goshiki had an abundance of people who loved him. 

Was he envious? 

Maybe just a little. 

It’s dark as the lights have been turned off once again, but Satori feels somebody sit down beside him. Judging by the amount of heat and bulging muscles, he deduces that it’s Ushijima. 

“Satori,” rumbles the baritone voice. “You saw his tail.” He nods mutely. “A tail can grow back, if you allow it.” 

“How can you know that, Wakatoshi-kun?” Satori mutters tiredly. “Even if my tail grows, you’ll leave by the end of the year. And I don’t want to feel that pain again.” 

A hand rests on his. “I will never forget you.”

Satori eyes Ushijima’s ears, lush with olive fur. While a tail represents others, the ears signify the love you hold for others. 

“You love me.” Satori whispers, his voice cracking. “You love me.” 

“I do.” 

“Oh,” he gasps softly as an unfamiliar sensation pulsates at his lower back, not painful like he is used to, but a tender ebb and flow of waves washing throughout him. “I’m scared, Wakatoshi-kun.” 

A soft wetness presses against his temple. “It’s okay, Satori. I’m here.” 

He takes a deep breath, trembling along with the reverberating sensation. 

Finally, he flicks his tail up and around, and— oh? 

Silky is his scarlet tail yet never before has it wrapped around his wrist, once, twice, several times. It’s so long, he inhales shakily, and it’s fluffy. Just as lush and exuberant as Wakatoshi’s ears. 

He swiftly turns to face the man beside him, but pauses and flushes at the proximity between them. 

“Do you see now, Satori?” Wakatoshi murmurs, leaning in slowly. “You’re loved.” 

Nodding with a short, wet laugh, Satori beams as he’s overwhelmed with adoration. 

“Thank you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> chavsjun.carrd.co ;))


End file.
